


Feracious

by Musyc



Category: Addams Family (TV 1964)
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Pregnancy, Yuletide 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"A blanket?" Gomez asked. "Is someone having a baby? A terrible addition to the Addams clan?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feracious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [billtheradish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/billtheradish/gifts).



Morticia's needles clacked together with the implacable rhythm of a locomotive speeding toward a collapsed bridge. Gomez, balanced on his head, watched the black wool yarn spin away from its ball as it was taken into Morticia's work. Her lap was filling with a wide, thick swath of tightly knitted darkness and Gomez considered the possibilities of the finished garment. A grave shroud, perhaps, for the next inevitable but delightfully anticipated death. A long hooded cloak for creeping through forest shadows to collect hemlock and belladonna. There were so many promising, chilling options.

Morticia examined the pile in her lap, her long fingers moving over the wool with the gentle touch of winter snow covering a wanderer's lifeless body, then she slipped the stiletto-like needles free. She lifted the trailing string to her mouth and bit it away with her sharp pointed teeth. A few quick movements wove the loose end into the wool.

Gomez pushed himself to his feet, twirling to Morticia's side as she held the garment up, the inky wool seeming to pull in and absorb the moonlight streaming through the rotted curtains. "A blanket?" Gomez asked. "Is someone having a baby? A terrible addition to the Addams clan?"

Morticia looked up at him, her lips curled in a smile. She laid her hand on her abdomen. "Yes," she said. "I am."

* * *

All of the doors had windows had been given an extra application of sticky, tacky grease to allow them to creak more loudly. All the blades in the house - the kitchen cleaver, the halberds and pikes, the guillotine - had been sharpened, because a sharp blade cut cleanly. Every loose carpet had been nailed flat - in one case, restrained on the rack until it learned to behave. The house, from dungeon to widow's walk, had been cleaned and prepared for the arrival of a new Addams and yet Gomez felt there was more he could do.

He found himself dangling from a chandelier, pondering the crevice in one corner of an unused bedroom. There lived a black widow spider and her egg sac. Was it enough for her? Would her dozens of squirming, wriggling offspring survive in such a lusciously capricious and cruel world? He thought of moving her to the nursery where she could live safely beneath the cradle.

"Gomez, come down from there."

He dropped immediately and was at Morticia's side faster than the slash of an executioner's axe. "Tish! Are you hurt? Are you ill? Is it the baby, should I call for a doctor? A witch doctor! No, no. A plague doctor! It's the plague, isn't it? The plague!" His heels drummed and he snapped his fingers as he circled Morticia with a wild grin. "How wonderful! To think, our first child hasn't even been born and we'll be able to tell our little Addams about the dreadful disease we survived. We can put it in his baby book! My First Plague."

"Gomez." Morticia laid her hand on his arm and he halted. She placed an assemblage of wires and string in his hands. From the ends of the strings dangled tiny nooses, flapping ravens, and laughing skulls. He looked at Morticia and she pointed to the ceiling. "A gift from Thing. Would you hang it in the nursery for me? Over the cradle, but not too high. We want our son to be able to reach it. Stimulation of the dark pathways in the mind is so crucial in the early weeks."

"Right away, _querida_ ," Gomez said. "Anything for our child. Anything for you."

* * *

Morticia sat in her favorite chair, a distant, nearly dead look in her eyes. Gomez stared at her, absorbed in the sunken hollows of her cheeks and the pallor of her skin. The pregnancy was taking so much energy from her that she constantly looked cadaverous. Gomez had never found her more beautiful.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, both hands resting on the rise of her stomach. "Oh," she said, her voice as strained as a man on a rack. Her lips drew back in a dreadful, enchanting snarl.

Gomez bounded to her side, ready to call for Lurch, but Morticia grabbed his arm. Her nails dug into his wrist, scraping between the tendons. Gomez held still, hoping she would pierce through to his veins, but after a moment she relaxed. "Here," she said. She took his hand and pressed it to the curve of her side. "Feel him."

Gomez held his breath in anticipation. He closed his eyes, concentrating, until he felt a ripple of movement beneath his hand. " _Cara mia_ ," he whispered. "I feel--"

The next blow threw him across the room. He stumbled out of the fireplace, coughing up soot and pounding ashes from his suit. "What a punch!" he shouted gleefully. "A boxer already! Our precious boy, what a pugnacious pugilist!"

Morticia's eyes grew as bright as a consumption victim's and she reached up to caress his cheek. " _Mon cher_ ," she purred. "How marvelous of you. You've just named our son." She smiled down at her stomach, stroking the taut fabric of her dress. "Pugsley."

* * *

A piercing scream rang through the house, rattling the windows and putting a furious scare into the bats. Gomez peered down at his train locomotive in confusion, unable to determine how it had made that sound without a whistle, then a second scream shook plaster from the ceiling. Gomez dropped his detonator and ran for the stairs, ignoring the explosion behind him. 

"Tish!" he shouted as he vaulted the railing and slid headfirst into the bedroom. "Morticia!"

Hunched by the window, both hands cradling her bulging stomach, Morticia threw back her hair. "Gomez." She panted for breath, her face twisted in a savage grimace. "Gomez. _Bubbala_. It's.... It's--" Another scream ripped through her with a force that nearly burst his eardrums.

He crouched beside her and clutched her hands. "Morticia. Tell me, _cara mia_ , tell me everything."

"It's excruciating. It's sheer anguish. If I were stretched on a bed of nails and set aflame, it could not be more painful." 

"It's only going to get worse," he said.

She lifted her head and met his eyes. "I know." She smiled. "I can't wait. Come, Gomez. Tell Lurch to fetch the car. It's time."

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt was: _I would love to see the events, any of them, surrounding Morticia's first pregnancy._


End file.
